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The Beauty Behind the Glitter, with Brooke Davis

If Joey Potter was the first girl I saw myself in, Brooke Davis was the first girl I aspired to be.

When we meet her on One Tree Hill, she’s every teen drama trope rolled into one: the party girl cheerleader, the messy best friend, the girl who uses attention as armor. But beneath the eyeliner and sass, Brooke Davis had something more—grit, loyalty, a softness that refused to be snuffed out. And over time, she shed her supporting character label, growing into one of the most beloved, layered characters in teen TV. That’s the arc I think about all the time. Because I see myself in it too.

I’ve always been outgoing, bubbly, loud in every sense. In middle school, I was a cheerleader. In high school, I was a two-time state championship soccer player and student council vice president, elected to homecoming court. I was the girl you wanted on your team, the one who could command a room. But I was also the girl who deeply, desperately wanted to be seen—for more than what was on the surface. It’s complicated when you’re the “fun one.” People assume you don’t need tenderness, that your confidence is endless. But like Brooke, I’ve always been sensitive. And like her, I’ve had to learn how to hold space for both.

Brooke’s relationship with Lucas—one of my favorite couples in the OTH universe—was a whirlwind of effort, missteps, and heartbreak. She tried so hard to be enough for someone who, in the end, wanted someone else. That gut-punch of not being chosen, even after showing up fully and loving deeply? That hits. It mirrored what I felt in my own marriage—the exhausting cycle of trying to be enough, only to realize that love built on performance isn’t real love at all.

But the real beauty of Brooke Davis wasn’t who she dated—it was who she became when she was alone. Her growth didn’t hinge on a partner. It happened in the quiet, in the mess, in the rebuilding. That’s what made her iconic to me. Yes, she was a party girl, but she was also a builder, a CEO, a friend who rode hard for her people. She made mistakes. She owned them. She evolved. I think about this moment from Season 4, Episode 20 where Brooke is able to articulate her character’s growth:

“I stopped letting boys define me and I started believing in myself and in my potential. I ran for student council president. I designed a clothing line. And somewhere along the way, the lost, little party girl became the girl on the wall of honor.”

The girl on the wall of honor. I think we all start out believing we have to be one or the other. Quiet or bold. Fun or deep. Put-together or still healing. But Brooke Davis—and growing up—taught me that you can be both.

And sometimes, the most powerful transformation doesn’t happen in the middle of a big love story. It happens alone, when no one is watching. In therapy, in your journal, in the moments you choose yourself over and over again. That’s not a supporting character move. That’s a lead role kind of growth.

One scene I love occurs in Season 6 with Brooke talking to her therapist:

"I don't know. I feel a little...a little bit like I failed. You know? I am watching all my friends move on with their lives: Haley and her family, and Millicent is moving to be with Mouth, and Peyton with Lucas and they are all moving forward. And it's like I am stuck here, standing still, and..."

"Brooke, you're 22 years old and the founder of a multi-million dollar corporation. I'd hardly call that standing still."

"But it's gone."

"You will do something else. You are intelligent, you are creative. You will figure it out. But that's not the real question."

"Then what is?"

"All you have talked about is your work, Brooke. But when you mention your friends being happy, you define happiness strictly in terms of relationship and family. The question is, why are you so insistent on going through life alone?"

That question echoes louder than the rest. Because it’s not just about what we achieve—it’s about allowing ourselves to be known, fully, without apology. Brooke did that work. And I’m doing it too. Sophia Bush once said that Brooke “had to earn everything,” and that’s what made her evolution feel so real. She never shied away from her mistakes—she owned them. She was a work in progress, unapologetically so.

“I am who I am. No excuses. But I’d like other people to know there’s a lot more to me than just some party girl.”

Same, Brooke. Same.

These days, I’m still rewriting. I’m still shedding the labels that never fit, still learning how to be seen the way I’ve always seen myself: loyal, sensitive, powerful, loving. And like Brooke, I’m realizing that the loudest thing about me isn’t the parties or the jokes or the outfits—it’s the heart underneath. I’m not all the way there yet, but I’m closer. And I think the girl on the wall of honor would be proud.